Born Lucky
by Tetsubinatu
Summary: Released after a decade in Azkaban,Snape forms an unlikely friendship with Ron Weasley. Adult themes. This story was started pre-DH, and although some events from DH have crept across, it is AU after HBP.
1. Chapter 1

A Weasley was standing at the gate of the prison as he approached the exit. He hadn't seen one for ten years, but he wasn't in any doubt. Ron Weasley, he thought, although it could have been Charlie. Not that it mattered; the auror robes made it clear that this was his escort to the mainland.

He shifted the thin cotton bag containing his possessions restlessly to the other hand, feeling uncomfortable in the ill-fitting civilian clothes which had been issued to him. The Weasley nodded politely to him and fell in step as they took the rocky path down to the dock. The salty wind lacked its usual bite; summer had even come to Azkaban, it seemed.

He was dismayed to find that some of the salt on his cheeks was tears as he watched the island fade behind him. The Weasley didn't appear to notice, whether out of courtesy or indifference, and Snape defiantly wiped the tears upon his sleeve before turning to face the approaching mainland.

At last he stood upon the wooden pier, a free man. As the boat cast off to return to Azkaban he watched it mindlessly, wondering what to do next. He had almost forgotten the auror until the man spoke.

"I have your wand, Professor."

The man was holding out a wand, and he took it carefully, amazed to find that it was indeed his old wand. He hadn't seen it since Nagini had attacked him, leaving him for dead in the final battle. He had woken in St Mungos afterwards, then been whisked off to trial and Azkaban, and he had never thought to see it again, not even knowing if it had been lost or merely confiscated. It felt strange in his hand. Thoughtfully he swished it, doing a quick 'Lumos'.

"Thank you," he said, his voice startling himself slightly. He sounded husky. Unsurprising, considering how rarely he had used the voice in solitary confinement. He looked up at the young man and added, "I am no longer your professor, Mr Weasley. You may call me Mr Snape."

The auror frowned. "Surely... Master Snape?"

"No. I was stripped of my Potions Mastership."

The man's lips tightened, but he made no exclamation. Perhaps it wasn't the Weasley he had thought it was. That boy was rash and impetuous.

"Can you earn it back?"

He shook his head, seeing the brief flare of pity in the other man's eyes.

"I have messages for you," the redhead said. "If you walk into town with me we can have a coffee and talk."

Messages? He frowned. "Who...?"

"Minerva, among others. Draco."

He wasn't used to the bombardment of new sensations and information. Every day in Azkaban had been the same: solitary, routine, silent. But the Weasley seemed to be content to wait on the dock as he thought about it.

"Yes."

They were halfway up the hill when he stopped. "Money."

Weasley stopped too, gazing patiently at him. "I'll pay for coffee, but you do have money. That is part of what I want to talk about. Minerva sent some for your immediate needs, and there is a bank account."

As they crested the hill he could see a little town below them. Weasley tapped his own head, then Snape's with his wand, creating the illusion that they were wearing Muggle clothes. Snape spoke again.

"I remember... they told me they confiscated my bank account."

"You kept your teacher's pay in a separate account which could be clearly shown to have never received income from any other - more dubious - source. Very sensible, as it turns out, because there was no excuse to confiscate it." Weasley grinned at him, and he was surprised to find that he had smiled reflexively back. How odd.

"That never stopped the Ministry before."

"The Order lawyer did his best for you. He couldn't save much else, but that account was unassailable." The track was dusty, but sheltered by overhanging trees, pleasant in the summer heat. The smells of the fresh green hillside were almost overwhelming after ten years confinement.

Another thought crossed Snape's mind. "The sentence was twenty years."

Weasley nodded. "They kept working on it. Not my area, but I know there was always some appeal or other going. Hermione and Minerva and the lawyer were meeting weekly at one point."

He gestured to Snape to enter the cafe they were now passing. Unmistakeably Muggle, it smelled of coffee and flowers, with a faint hint of dust. Weasley ordered two coffees, asking him if he would like anything else.

"A sandwich?"

"Ham and cheese? Salad?"

"Salad."

When it came he ate quickly and neatly. There were never enough fresh vegetables in Azkaban - everything was boiled to mush.

"You said there were messages?"

- o - o -

Ron stared at Snape. Merlin - he looked so small and lost. Minerva had asked him to swap shifts with Boynton so that he could be there for Snape's release , and he had done it willingly enough, but... he hadn't expected his childhood nemesis to be so _small_. In his memory Snape was larger-than-life and twice as terrifying. Even at the last battle when he had lined up with the Death Eaters he had been a compelling figure. Voldemort's Right Hand Man had scorned to wear a mask, and when he had unexpectedly turned and taken out Lucius and Bellatrix in two swift motions, he had passed into legend.

All hell had broken loose then, and the only people Ron had been aware of until the Dark Lord fell were Harry and Hermione. As Hermione hovered between life and death in the following weeks, Ron was only peripherally aware that Snape had been taken and tried as a Death Eater. He had been more aware of the funerals and memorial services that punctuated that month like a scattering of black clouds. He and Harry had gone to them all, of course, alternately numb and agonised as each loss registered. Then they had gone back to St Mungos and their bedside vigil. By the time Hermione was out of danger, Snape was gone, and - to be honest - little regretted.

Ten years later and here he was again. Ron counted in his head, finally estimating that Snape must be in his late 40s. Hell, he was still young for a wizard. Ron had thought of him as old, but when he was 11, Snape could only have been 31 or 32. The man had had a hell of a life for someone so young.

Looking into the dazed eyes of the 'greasy old git', Ron spoke gently. "Minerva has arranged a flat for you for a couple of weeks in London, in the same building where her sister lives. We didn't know what you wanted, so this is just a place for you to stay until you can get organised. She will be there to meet us when we arrive."

After a pause, Snape nodded, and Ron continued, "Minerva has your Gringotts key and some other items that were left at Hogwarts which belong to you. Draco will drop by later."

Stop. Pause. Wait for him to absorb it. He knew the routine. They had had to do the same for Draco when he got out, and for Percy and Dung, although their sentences had been much lighter and not served entirely in solitary. Snape was the last of the Order to be released, the last for whom this should be necessary.

Ron had carried on like a two bob watch about Percy, when he got out, thin and pale and striped with permanent scars. His Dad had had to take him aside and tell him firmly that life was frequently unfair, and having a tantrum about it was only upsetting Percy and Mum. 'Save your energy for making a difference,' his Dad had said. As a child he had seen his father as a pale figure against the vibrancy of his mother's loud personality, but the older he got the more he appreciated his Dad's quiet strength. His parents were actually a good pair, he thought, with complementary personalities and the shared courage and ideals that had led them to become Order members.

"Finished your coffee? Side-along apparation would be best if that's OK with you?" he said to the man before him.

Snape nodded submissively. And that was just plain _wrong_. Ron squelched the outrage he was feeling and quietly led his former professor into a narrow back lane, then apparated them both to Snape's temporary accommodation.

- o - o -

Minerva was in the kitchen when they arrived. Like Ron, she knew to move gently and allow long pauses between bites of information. Ron leaned against the cupboards and watched as she laid out the details of what she had organised for Snape. Snape accepted it all passively. It wasn't until Draco showed up that Ron saw a flash of ... something ... appear in those blank eyes. He couldn't figure out what exactly it was, but when Draco leaned over and gently hugged his former Head of House, Snape actually leaned into the embrace. He said something inaudible into the blond's ear and Draco's grip tightened.

"Ron, Minerva, would you mind?" he said with quiet firmness, "Severus needs some peace and quiet now."

Ron exchanged a look with Minerva and without arguing they stood up and left. As Ron closed the door behind them, he could see Draco kneeling in front of the older man, holding him close. Snape was shaking uncontrollably and Draco was murmuring reassurances, totally focussed on the man in his arms. Ron felt a little sick to have witnessed something so intimate.

- o - o -

A month later, Ron was back to help Snape move into his new cottage. Harry, Remus, George and Luna, Kingsley and Neville were there, among others, and Hermione was meeting them in Devon. Ron was relieved to see that Snape was looking much more ..._Snapish_ than the last time he had seen him. His back was straight, the dazed look had gone from his eyes and the creakiness of disuse no longer marred his voice. He looked somewhat startled at the invasion of his home by so many faces from the past, however. As each new person appeared the crease between his brows deepened from puzzlement to outright suspicion.

Ron thought he had better take steps to dispel the gathering storm.

"We do this for all the Order members, you know," he remarked, in a brief moment when the only other person in the kitchen was his host.

Snape cast a dismissive look in his direction, "They came to gawk."

"No, really." He took a swig of Neville's butterbeer. "We don't see much of each other in normal life any more - it was a long time ago, after all - but when anyone moves house, has a baby, a wedding, a funeral... well... we all come. You'll see when Draco and Helene's baby is born next month. It's a way of saying we haven't forgotten, and checking in on each other.

"We all have bad dreams; we all have trouble with certain things - bangs or smoke or small spaces - and we check in on each other when our lives change, because that's when it tends to go pear-shaped, you know?"

Snape's frown eased a little, and he gave a reflective nod, the frown looking less suspicious but paradoxically more puzzled.

"We'll be around for a couple of weeks until you're settled in," Ron continued, "and then you won't see us for months until... well, until the next time. Probably Draco and Helene's baby, as I said."

He nodded to Snape and moved towards the door, yelling, "Coming!" to whoever was calling him from the bathroom.

- o - o -

One of the Muggleborns must have gone out for pizza while Harry and Ron made the final trip to Hogwarts for a few last items in storage from Snape's tenure there. The aroma made them both groan as they apparated into the living room. Dropping their boxes, they made straight for the bright haven of the kitchen, washing filthy hands before seizing pizza slices greedily from the ravaged boxes on the table. Ron sank into the nearest chair, ignoring a shout from the dispossessed occupant, who happened to be George. Luna patted her lap and George settled into it with a grin.

Ron never could have imagined at school that a decade later he would be eating pizza in Professor Snape's kitchen. He snorted pineapple out his nose as the thought came to him, and immediately shared it with the rest of the table, happy to see that Remus almost choked on an olive at the idea of what teenage Ron would have said if he had known. Snape shot him a grim look with an echo of times past in it as he helped the werewolf breathe.

Gradually everyone looked at their watches and slipped away. Harry and Hermione went with Neville and Ginny to collect their children from Molly, who was babysitting. George and Luna left with Remus, reminding him that he had left his jacket at their house and needed to collect it. Kingsley yawned and said he had an early start the next day, and finally only Ron was left, eyeing off the last few pieces of pizza and trying to decide whether he should leave something for Snape's breakfast or not. Moving slowly, he placed the remains in a dish and put a 'stayfresh' charm on them, then went to hunt up Snape and say good night.

He found him sitting motionless on the bench on his verandah, staring out into the night. Ron handed him a beer and sat next to him.

"Don't you have anywhere to be, Weasley?" Snape asked, but his tone wasn't sharp.

"Nope," Ron admitted, "You've still got beer and pizza. Why would I go home?"

Snape snorted, and returned the beer. "I prefer fire-whiskey," he stated, picking up a glass from under the bench and taking a gulp.

"I left you some pizza for breakfast." Snape gave him a look which said clearly that he had wasted his energy. The little noises of the night closed in; the hum of insects, rustling of leaves in the wind and the far off hum of an expressway. Neither of them spoke, enjoying the peace, until finally Ron realised that he was getting sleepy.

"Goodnight, sir," he said, rising to his feet.

Snape stared at him in the moonlight.

"Goodnight, Mr Weasley."


	2. Chapter 2 Hera's christening

Their paths crossed several times, but the next time Severus spoke to Ron was at Hera Malfoy's christening. Draco and Helene were spending more and more time in France, and the ceremony was held in a small chapel on their property near Epernay. Severus could understand that with many of his English properties and assets confiscated, and a French wife, Draco's life was naturally centering itself in France, but he still felt bereft. Former Order members formed a little English island in a sea of French relatives and friends. Severus drifted off, wandering down the rows of green vines in search of a few quiet moments.

At the foot of the hill was a very utilitarian equipment shed, and sitting on the ground with his back against the far side, apparently enjoying the sunshine, was Ron Weasley.

"Beautiful, isn't it," he murmured lazily.

"I imagine it would be hard to tell with your eyes closed."

Ron grinned. "All that food and the wine... just makes me want to fall asleep," he admitted.

Severus smirked, then transfigured a chair from a packing crate and sat down next to him.

"So you're just here for the food then, Mr Weasley."

"And the wine, Mr Snape!"

Severus became lost in his own thoughts for a little while, and when he looked down it appeared that his companion had actually fallen asleep; his head was drooping at a strange angle and his mouth agape.

Ron Weasley had grown into someone strangely comfortable to be around, Severus mused. Perhaps it was because he had been the first friendly face he had seen when he left prison, or because he had been the one to give back Severus' wand. Maybe it was because he had been the one to see how disorienting Severus found it to be around a crowd of people he barely knew as adults but who seemed to feel that they had proprietary rights in his life. Possibly it was an effect of Ron's strong gift for friendship, or perhaps it was just because he was a Weasley, and however irritating he found the family en masse, at the back of his mind was the reassuring knowledge that they stood immovably for the Light. In any case, he was an undemanding companion.

The sun was going down, and soon the cool of the evening began to settle on the vineyard. Severus returned his chair to its original state and spoke loudly.

"Wake up Sleeping Beauty!"

Glazed blue eyes opened and a flush passed across the young man's face as he realised that he had been asleep. "Oh! Thanks. How embarrassing!" He jumped to his feet and started up the hill briskly.

Following less hastily, Severus called, "Mr Weasley!"

An enquiring face turned around.

Severus gestured to where the good French soil had left an imprint upon a fine English pair of trousers, and seeing total incomprehension upon the freckled face, sighed and did it himself. "_Tergeo_."

"Oh. Er, thanks!" Ron slowed down and fell back to walk with him. "Do you think you could call me 'Ron', sir? There are so many Weasleys at these events, I never know which of us is being called."

"Certainly, ... er, Ron. And I am rather tired of being called 'Sir'. You may address me as Severus, if you wish."

Ron looked pleased. "Thank you, Severus."

The dusk was closing in swiftly, and the lights from the party at the top of the hill gleamed . Just short of the circle of light, Severus stopped, and Ron turned to wait for him. The furrow between his brows was once again in evidence as he lifted his face to Ron. "I hope you will not find me impertinent, Ron, if I ask you something which has been puzzling me."

Ron shrugged genially. "Ask away."

"I thought that you and Miss Granger were together in school, and yet I now find that she is with Mr Potter and I have never seen you with a partner."

"Ten years is a long time, Severus." Ron's face was shuttered, but not angry.

"Mmmm. Yes. I missed them. The eldest Potter child is nine, I believe."

Ron turned to place his face in shadow and walked a few steps back down the slope. Severus followed him, remaining at a slight distance. Voice and face carefully neutral, he said carefully, "I meant no offence, Ron. There is no obligation upon you to satisfy my curiosity."

"No, that's OK. I just... this isn't really a matter to discuss at a party." Closing the gap between them slightly he lowered his voice. "I prefer men, actually, and Harry and Hermione preferred each other."

"Is it a secret? Your preference?"

"Not... exactly. I just don't broadcast it. My family and friends know, but as you have noticed I don't have a partner, so... what's the point of mentioning it?"

Severus was still puzzled, but the party flowed out to meet them and closed around them before they had a chance to clarify anything further.

- o - o -

They ended up sharing one of the guest rooms. Originally Severus was to have had his own room, but extra people stayed the night, and something had to give. Ron could see that no-one else was particularly keen to share Severus' room, and he had no objection so he volunteered.

It was Epernay, after all, and there had been a lot of champagne.

Far too much champagne, Ron decided, when he and Snape fell into an argument as soon as the bedroom door closed behind them.

"I just don't understand why you haven't made more of your fame and fortune. It's been ten years! When I was imprisoned you were on the cusp of having everything you could ever want, and ten years later... nothing. You have nothing."

Ron snorted, lying flat on his back and watching the ceiling turn lazy circles. "Tell me how you really feel, Snape."

"Severus."

"I think you just insulted me, Severus. So why shouldn't I call you 'Snape'?"

"Truth is no insult. You could have had fame, fortune, love..."

"I'm on a chocolate frog card, you know."

"...power, influence, sex..."

"I don't understand this obsession of yours, Severus! I have everything I want!"

"You have a job as an ordinary auror..."

"I like being an auror."

"...earning less than your brother Percy..."

"I don't need more money!"

"...and you're alone!"

"I like..."

"Don't tell me you like being alone."

Ron flushed, turning his face away. "I wanted Harry," he said flatly.

Snape's expression didn't change. "You could have _had_ Harry," he said exasperatedly.

"I know, but..."

"But what?"

"He's happier with Hermione. And Hermione is happy with him. He always wanted to be ordinary, and now he is. As ordinary as he can manage, anyway."

Severus groaned. "Gryffindors! You had everything, and you gave it away."

There was a little silence. Ron blinked, thinking... "Severus?"

"Yes."

"How did you know I could have had Harry? I mean, I knew, if I just said something... I think Harry knew and Hermione... I think she guessed... but it it all happened in seventh year and..."

Snape gave him the old 'you idiot child' glare. "That's how it works. You could have had anything you wanted. You still could."

"What are you raving on about? How _what_ works?"

"Seventh Son of a Seventh Son. That's how it works. The gift of friendship brings you everything you want."

Ron rolled over to face him, eyes creasing with mirth. "Severus, have you finally gone off your rocker? I'm the _sixth_ son! There is is no seventh son, and anyway my father is an only child!"

Severus sat up, shaking his head as if to clear it. "You mean no-one ever told you? The old coot didn't even tell you? I'm the only one left who knows?"

Ron sat up too, although it made him dizzy... dizzier. "Severus, how much have you had to drink, in Merlin's name? I am not the seventh son of a seventh son. I'm just a very ordinary sixth son of no-one in particular."

Severus shook his head again, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "A moment, if you please. This isn't to do with how much I had to drink. It's true." He took a few deep breaths, then raised dark eyes to look at Ron.

"Albus worked it out. He couldn't understand your friendship with Potter. Chosen One, Brightest witch of our age ... and you. And it was clear that the other two adored you. You were the glue in the trio. You made it work. He developed this obsession. First he probed into Arthur's history. You know his father was very old when he was born?"

"Yeah, a hundred or something, but..."

"Your father was from his second marriage. Your grandfather's first wife left him and returned to Spain with her four sons in 1908."

"Yeah, so that'd make Dad a fifth son..."

"But she was pregnant with twin boys when she left. I don't think your grandfather ever knew. Albus sent me to Spain to rake through old records to confirm it."

"But even if that's true, I'm still only a sixth son."

"Sons don't have to be born in wedlock to count."

Ron went white under his freckles.

Snape watched him consideringly. "It's not as bad as you are fearing. Your parents split up over the Christmas holidays of their seventh year. Arthur had a brief affair with a Muggle waitress and then got back together with your mother after the holidays."

Ron still looked pale. "I don't feel very well," he blurted out, before making a sudden bolt for the door. Severus could hear the door into the nearby bathroom crash open and shut again behind him.

Downstairs, someone was still awake. At the edge of his hearing, voices murmured idly of their own concerns. He tried not to listen to the noises coming from the bathroom. Eventually, they stopped, and there was a sound of running water through the old pipes. The door opened and Ron padded back into the room. He smelled of damp and peppermint. The darkness closed around them as they both lay flat on their beds, staring at the ceiling.

"I'm sorry, Ron."

Ron's voice was curiously flat. "I have another brother..."

"His mother gave him up for adoption and he now lives in New Zealand, where he attended the local equivalent of Hogwarts. He thinks he is Muggleborn."

"What's his name?"

"Gordon Anstey. He has red hair. Or at least... this was fifteen or more years ago, you realise? I don't know what happened later."

"You met him? Did Dumbledore send you to New Zealand, too?"

"No. He had contacts of his own there, but I saw a photograph. He looked a lot like Charlie in the photo."

Ron sighed. "Does Dad know?"

"I have no idea."

The room was quiet for a long time. Eventually Severus must have fallen asleep, and when he awoke, Ron was gone.

- o - o -

A week after the christening Severus came up from his potions lab to find Ron making dinner in his kitchen. A fine steak was waiting to go on the grill with roast potatoes nearly ready and vegetables ready to flash-steam When he saw Severus, Ron placed the steaks on the grill.

"Where's your frying pan? I want to do some mushrooms."

Severus pointed, and watched as Ron sliced the mushrooms. "My wards?" he asked evenly.

Ron pointed to himself. "Auror."

Severus copied him. "Spy."

Ron shrugged and turned again to the frying pan. "Pissed-off auror. Sorry about that." He didn't sound sorry.

The wards had been brutalised. Severus figured he had twenty minutes before dinner was ready to do some rough-and-ready repairs. As he did it, he planned better wards to replace them, realising that he had been careless. When he arrived at the cottage he had been weak and out of practice, but he should have upgraded the wards as his strength returned.

Ron was a good cook. Severus didn't tend to invest a lot of energy in eating, and this was the best meal he had had since his visit to the Malfoys, but Ron merely picked at his meal. Severus didn't think he had ever seen Ron fail to eat heartily before. It disturbed him. He waited for the younger man to come to the point of his visit, feeling annoyed that he didn't know how to ask without causing offence. He was the one whose privacy had been invaded, after all! He should be incandescent with rage. Ron should be... damnit... apologetic, and...

Severus sighed. None of that was going to happen. He knew - basically - why Ron was here, and he really couldn't be bothered getting angry about it. He kept eating and waited.

Finally Ron muttered. "Dad didn't know."

"Oh. er... about your brother?"

"And about his brothers."

"Oh."

Ron poked at the steak .

"How did he receive the news?"

Ron shrugged. Severus waited.

"I can't believe Dumbledore never told us! How could he do that to us?"

"The Headmaster never told anyone anything unless he was forced to. It was his greatest fault, in my opinion."

Ron took a sullen mouthful of mushrooms, chewing slowly. Severus eyed him with irritation. The mushrooms were uncommonly good, and if Ron wasn't going to enjoy them he should leave them to someone who did. He leaned over and emptied the remainder onto his plate.

"You knew," Ron accused.

"I thought _you_ knew, too."

"You said it yourself; Dumbledore never told anyone anything."

Severus was beginning to become annoyed. As annoyed as he could feel with a mouthful of steak and mushrooms. "Ron. I thought you knew."

"Well I didn't!"

"And now you do." Severus attempted to revive the death glare of his teaching days. Then he took another mouthful of mushrooms, somewhat marring the effect. "What do you want of me anyway?"

Ron pushed his chair back. For once, Severus could see in him the emotionally overcharged teenager he had been. It struck him anew how much that fiery child had changed, to become the man he was now.

"All my life," Ron began, "I've been nothing special. Harry, Hermione... You said it in France: Chosen One, Brightest Witch... and me." He looked nauseated. Severus tried not to think of mushrooms.

"But you are special," he prompted.

"Yeah but not because of me. Just because I was born after the twins. I mean, if Gordon Anstey had been twins, George would have been the one." He looked somewhat disoriented at the thought, as indeed did Severus. "You even said that that was what made Dumbledore suspicious. He thought I was too ordinary to be friends with Harry and Hermione."

Severus rolled his eyes. "It was the strength of your bond that made him so suspicious! The three of you didn't appear to have all that much in common, but suddenly there you were, completely inseparable. From the moment you walked into the Great Hall to be sorted, you and Potter were a unit - and you'd never even met before! Potter even chose his house based on how you were treated.

"The old man was thrilled when he figured it out; he said that if the Dark Lord were going to win, you would have been in Slytherin, making friends with Draco Malfoy and all the little Death Eater wannabes. Choosing Potter was a clear sign that the Light was going to win, he said. Repeatedly."

Ron sniffed, seeming a little calmer. "Wrong about Draco, wasn't he? And anyway, maybe I was just going to hand Harry over to Voldemort and win fame and riches that way."

Severus nodded. "Don't think he didn't consider the possibility! But by the time he had all the details worked out he knew that you would never do that - it's not in you. Now if Gordon Anstey had been quadruplets..." His mouth twitched up at the corners.

Ron grinned reluctantly, sharing Snape's vision of Percy, back in his pompous heyday, seeking glory by handing the Chosen One to Voldemort. "He wouldn't have, you know," he protested feebly.

"Mmm," Snape dropped the subject. "Miss Granger was born bright," he continued, "Potter was born into prophesy, and you were born with a magical gift. No credit to anyone in that; it's just what happened. What you did with those gifts is what mattered. All of you used them well in the service of the Light."

Ron stared reflectively at the wall for a moment, then sighed and moved back to the table. "I still don't like it," he admitted, picking up his knife and fork.

"Understandably so."

"Oy! You didn't have to take ALL the mushrooms!"

Severus ate faster.


	3. Chapter 3 Epiphany

It was strange, having Snape as a friend, Ron mused. Severus. Who would have thought he would ever be a friend of the 'greasy git'? His supervisor didn't much like it, either. Educated at home, she had been a junior auror during the war, and had never known Severus Snape as anything other than a name on a poster, and then a convicted criminal. When Ron began to be seen in public with him (lunch in Diagon Alley, the odd drink in Hogsmeade) she had given him a lecture on the importance of being seen to be free of criminal associations. Ron pointed out that the lunch party in Diagon Alley had included his parents and the pub meetings had included such notables as The Boy who Lived and the owner of WWW, but came away with the impression that these celebrities had simply fallen in her estimation as a result. Ron diagnosed Incurable Percyitis and resolved to ignore her. When she pursued the issue he had a quiet word with Kingsley and the subject was dropped, but he was aware that she remained unconvinced, and that he was out of favour.

He didn't know why he was so resolute in holding onto this unexpected friendship. Snape had never been his favourite person, to say the least, but Severus - well that was different. Severus was funny, and tolerant in his odd, sharp fashion. He had never said a word about Ron's invasion of his home after the Seventh Son thing came to light. (Of course, feeding him had probably helped.) He had never condemned Ron's sexuality, either, and his occasional mutterings about Gryffindors seemed more habitual than malicious.

When Luna miscarried, he not only came to St Mungos with a bunch of flowers from his garden, but offered to prepare any potions that the healers prescribed for her. Ron knew that he had actually done so, too, and refused payment. George said that he had muttered something about 'Order members' and stalked away when they tried to insist on reimbursing ingredients costs, at least.

Fourth Friday of the month was Pub Night at Rosmerta's, and after Ron dragged Severus along unwillingly a couple of times, he had become a regular, along with Harry, George, Remus and the occasional other Order member. Hermione had dropped out when she started at Cambridge, claiming she didn't have time, and it drifted into a men's night out, for the most part, without ever explicitly excluding the women. Hermione would still come along once or twice a year, if reminded.

It was at one of these nights that Ron had an epiphany (as he kept telling everyone) - and drank eight pints in two hours in its honour. At well over six foot, he was a bit too large to conceal from the proprietor, but he was a happy drunk, floppy and cheerful in his total lack of coordination. Rosmerta gave him an old-fashioned look, but she didn't stop serving him.

They usually flooed home from the pub, but there Rosmerta drew the line, advising them to take him for a walk first.

"There's no harm in him but I don't want him spraying the fireplace with vomit when it starts to whirl! Bring him back before I close and if he's feeling better I'll let him floo then."

George, Neville and Harry had to get back to their other halves, so it was Remus and Severus who took him out of the smokey warmth into the cool of the evening breeze. Without thinking about it, Remus guided them towards his house on the outskirts of Hogsmeade and finding themselves there, they decided not to bother returning to the pub.

- o - o -

Severus had never been to Remus' home before. The living room made him uneasy - and even more so, when he pinned down the source of that unease. The house was too middle class; too ordinary. The only time he had ever been in such a house was during Death Eater raids, when cosy rooms just like this one had seen events he had no wish to recall. His own past held memories of the mean two-up-two-down he grew up in and the lush residences of his Slytherin colleagues, of Hogwarts and assorted public and private places, but he had never visited a home like this one as a welcome guest. He felt nauseated. The couch slipcover was blue and white, and quite suddenly his mind imprinted it with large splotches of blood, and a severed...

He ran for the garden.

When he had finished, he leaned, panting, against a small chestnut tree and weakly evanescoed the evidence. He didn't recall their names, or even their faces really, nor when they died, nor why - probably no reason at all - but the details of their deaths in their cosy blue and white living room were crystal clear in his memory. He shivered. Above him a new moon was framed by branches, a few autumn leaves lingering still. The neighbouring cottages were dark already, and the light streaming from Remus' house should have been welcoming. Severus didn't think he could go back in just yet, but he could scarcely just apparate away without a word.

It was not long before Remus appeared on the front step. "I put Ron in the spare room," he said, loudly enough to be heard across the small lawn. "There's a fire-whiskey here with your name on it."

Severus took two deep breaths and walked back up the two steps into the little glass-enclosed space which Remus' real estate agent had called an entry lobby, and which Remus used as a space to hang up dripping mackintoshes and umbrellas, and shed muddy boots. There were two old cane chairs to one side and two glasses of fire-whiskey on the rickety table between them. Severus sat down ungracefully and took a swig.

Finally Remus observed matter-of-factly, "Flashback?"

Severus nodded.

"Are you going to be able to use my floo?"

He didn't know. "Of course I am. I was just taken by surprise, that's all."

Remus nodded.

"I assume Ron's asleep?"

"Yes. He'll be fine. He really tied one on tonight! He seemed... exuberant." The men lapsed into uneasy silence.

"Ummm... Severus..." Remus stared at the bare boards beneath his feet. "I would prefer that you were able to visit me, if you ever wanted to. Not that it has come up before, but... would you... Is there any part of my decor which you would like me to change?"

Severus was about to shake his head, but... the man had asked. "Are you deeply attached to your blue and white couch cover, Lupin?"

Severus finished his drink and thanked his host before striding briskly across the living room to the small fireplace and flooing home. He tried not to glance at the couch cover, which was now a decorative forest green, or the curtains, which had been changed to match.

- o - o -

As Severus had expected, Ron showed up at his home the next afternoon carrying a packet of ginger snaps. Not that ginger snaps were necessarily what he had expected, but Ron did usually bring some kind of food. Severus understood that as a courtesy, where Lucius would have taken it for an insult.

He made coffee and they opened the ginger snaps as Ron began to apologise for his drunken behaviour at the pub.

"I've seen you drunk before. At least you're a pleasant drunk, Ron. Some drunks I have known..." he trailed off.

Ron was still looking uneasy. "Remus said you had a bad time last night."

"Mmm. Nothing to do with you, though. Are you going to tell me whether this famous 'epiphany' of yours stands up to the test of sobriety?"

Ron grinned. "It sounds pretty dumb, put into words, but... I can be happy."

Severus thought about it, examining the idea from several angles. "I see."

"Do you?" Ron leaned forward, blue eyes intent.

"Yes; I believe I do. The war is over. Your friends are happy, thanks to the sacrifices of many, not least yourself. You enjoy your work. You can allow yourself to... let go. To seek and find your own happiness."

Ron leaned back, satisfied that he had communicated effectively. "Yes! That's it."

Severus was looking into the distance. "You were too young for the burden you shouldered with Potter and Granger, really. The old men never gave you any choice - Dumbledore and Voldemort both."

Ron's sombre face was looking at him. "You were as young when you started, and it's been longer for you."

"I had a choice." His mouth soured, thinking of the resentful, vain, despairing teenager who had made that choice thirty years ago. He took a bite of gingersnap.

Ron nodded slowly. "In a sense, you did. But not for long."

"No." Severus considered the downward trajectory of his life since that stupid, fateful choice. "No, I suppose not. Except that I did choose to fight on."

Ron nodded again. "Yeah, you're right. You didn't give up and go under. That's important. Anyway, the epiphany was for you too. You can choose to be happy, too."

Oddly, the thought was new. He understood the shock of it upon Ron as he felt its impact upon himself. Could he really?

Since he'd been released from Azkaban he had felt resigned, angry, hopeless, sad, calm, and there had even been a few moments of comfortable peace, but actual happiness...There was so much from his past that weighed upon him. Did he really have the right to just push it aside and start again? Would wizarding society let him? Who would he be, if he let his past go? And there were good things from his past too... Minerva, Draco...

"I'll think about it," he said uneasily.

"It was you who sparked it you know. You really started it all at Hera's christening. When the whole shock of the Seventh Son thing died down I was left with a feeling that I had missed something, and then yesterday I suddenly understood what you were asking - what you saw that made you ask - and then I just realised... there isn't any reason for me not to go for the things I want. So I thought I should share it with you."

Ron was glowing.

"So what are you going to do about it?" Severus asked.

"Just... I dunno. Just look for the things I want, I guess. I want a partner, maybe a kid or two if it can be arranged and if my partner does. I'd like a house in the country like yours one day, and I miss having a garden with trees to lie under and vegetables growing in it. I've never been further than France - I wouldn't mind going to the World Cup in Spain next year. And I've wanted to learn to ski ever since Hermione told me about it."

Severus felt a burning pang in his chest. Oh yes. Once he might have wanted all that too. He forced his face into a pleasant expression.

"Well then Ron, you should go out and get them."


End file.
